


Like Clockwork

by Merci



Series: Territorial Pissings [3]
Category: DOGS - Fandom
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Shounen-ai, Smoking, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-16
Updated: 2010-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:15:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merci/pseuds/Merci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haine and Badou get called out on a job together.  Things proceed as they usually do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Clockwork

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** I am making no profit from this fanfiction. I do not own Badou, Haine or Dogs: Bullets  & Carnage.
> 
> This was originally part of Territorial Pissings. I’ve been working on that fic recently and was going to cut all of this, but I saw the potential for another story in it, so I’ve tweaked it and turned it into something entirely new. I like to imagine these two have this sort of relationship where this is just the expected way that things work out. Who knows, this might be the sort of thing that first intrigued Giovanni and drew him to explore Badou on a more personal level. Haine having a relationship with someone is such a big thing... he wants to dissect it and find out about it and steal it away.
> 
> Anyways, this is mostly gen, though, I am a slasher, so the vibe is probably there, even if I didn’t intend it. Enjoy!

Badou hunched his shoulders against the rain as he walked down the empty street. Nobody else in their right mind would be out at that godforsaken hour. He cursed under his breath, flicking his butt to the ground and digging in his pack for a fresh cigarette – he’d been burning them since he left his apartment.

“You’re late.” Haine’s breath misted in the air, cold and sharp.

“Yeah, whatever,” Badou coughed, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets and rolling the new cigarette along his lips. “Don’t expect me to leap at your command at this time of night.” He huffed, withdrawing his lighter and trying to coax it to work. He focused on the dancing flame, before turning his attention to his partner’s ghostly visage. Haine called him out like this often enough that the entire process was routine for Badou. An annoying routine. “So, what the hell are we doing here?” He stifled a yawn. “And do you really need me? I hope Granny Liza’s paying us a lot of money for my inconvenience...”

“We need your reconnaissance skills,” Haine said. He looked thoughtful for a moment before his expression broke and his mouth turned up into a cruel smirk. “Heh, well, maybe not, but she wanted us together, so stop bitching.”

“The hell?” Badou felt the beginnings of a headache in his temples. “You’re the one who can’t be killed. Why does she want me here?” He needed the money, sure, but he could only be so grateful while functioning on two hours of sleep.

“She thinks we’re a good team,” Haine shrugged and folded his arms over his chest, “Even though I’m always saving your ass.”

“Whatever,” Badou muttered, absently flipping him off while stifling a yawn. “Let’s just get this crap over with.”

Haine nodded led them down the street towards the industrial section of town. He turned sharply down an alley, his boots creaking as he glided up the stairs to a burnt-out warehouse.

Badou followed silently, shielding his cigarette from the rain that made the city smell worse than it did on a dry night. He followed his partner inside, letting the metal door slam behind him.

Haine led them up a flight of stairs to a room that was drier than the others. He swept the room with a glance before heading over to the large windows lining the outer wall. “Granny Liza referred this job to us,” he muttered, indicating the warehouse that was visible through the windows. “There’s some gang politics bullshit going on over there,” Haine sighed. “One of the bosses thinks his guys are stealing from him, so we need to get some proof so he can do whatever with them.”

Badou half-listened to the details as an idea clicked in his head; if he was lucky, he could get out of this without a single gun shoved in his face. It would be easy money that would pay for weeks’ worth of cigarettes. He nearly giggled to himself as he fantasized about a full pack of smokes, when another thought derailed his plans. He narrowed his eye and turned to his partner. “If this is just a recon job, why are you here?”

“Because when you get caught, I’m going to have to save your ass.” Haine leaned against the wall, his arms casually folded over his chest as he turned his red eyes on his partner. They seemed to waver as they focused on Badou, shifting between cold knowing and brittle empathy.

Neither felt comforting to the smoker who ground his teeth as he positioned himself by the window and settled into his surveillance routine. His cigarette dangled from his lips as he peered through his binoculars, watching the building and waiting for their targets to arrive. He’d mashed three butts into the windowsill and was digging for his second-last cigarette when he spotted headlights turning onto the desolate little alley below him.

Badou watched as a van pulled up and several men got out. They were greeted by another group of armed thugs who came from the warehouse. The meeting was all very juicy and Badou took pictures as a man who appeared to be the leader gave instructions to the others. They didn’t even try to hide what they were doing and Badou zoomed in as close to snap a few shots of the large, black bags that filled the back of one van. The bags probably had the stolen merchandise, but Badou couldn’t be certain. He watched the thugs hurry inside with one bag, carrying with them, any chance he had of playing this one safe. “Shit,” he muttered, biting down on his cigarette. “I can’t see them from here.”

“Didn’t you get enough?” Haine muttered from his position against the wall. The irritation was clear in his voice.

“Yeah, but I need something else. A picture of a mysterious bag in a van won’t get me a paycheque. I have to get closer or something.” Badou growled, rubbing his shoulder.

“Don’t catch a cold in that rain.” Haine tilted his head slightly, a smile ghosting across his pale lips.

Badou felt a shiver run up his back as their eyes locked for a moment. There was something raw in that exchange that left him feeling distracted. “…asshole.”

“Hn, maybe I won’t come to your rescue when they catch you snooping around, then.” Haine’s smile stretched further, revealing his canines in a wolfish grin.

Badou sneered as best he could, even though he knew it wouldn’t affect his partner in the least. He found his way out of the warehouse and down the fire escape. The rain dampened his hair as he made his descent. His feet slid out beneath him and he gripped the metal ladder like grim death. His cigarette tumbled from his lips, landing in a puddle below. Badou exhaled sharply and looked over to the warehouse where his next paycheque was waiting.

Slowly. Carefully. Very carefully, Badou climbed down the ladder. His fingers were white with cold as he gripped each rung, slowly lowering himself to the ground where he found the soaked cigarette. It was definitely dead, but that didn’t stop him from picking it out of its watery grave and sighing remorsefully. His ability to buy more rested on getting some damning pictures of those assholes in the warehouse. He felt his resolve harden as he looked to the building in question and quickly dashed over.

He kept his eye trained on the windows, making sure nobody saw him scurry behind a nice heap of garbage and pallets. Badou dug for his camera and peeked through a window. The leader was visible as he unzipped the black bag and turned to say something to one of his men. Shifting his gaze, Badou took note of other thugs standing guard further in the warehouse. If he could do this from outside, he’d save himself a whole lot of trouble.

Badou rose to his tiptoes, his camera was cold in his hands as he pressed it to the glass. His finger shook as he clicked on the shutter, snapping what he hoped was enough to guarantee him a carton of cigarettes. He exhaled slowly. He didn’t want to risk going any closer, but he—

Danger flashed across his senses and he turned in time to see a fist on its way to his face. His head snapped back with the force of the blow and his vision went blurry. He tightened his grip on his camera and turned to run, but he wasn’t fast enough. The men behind him caught him easily enough and held him fast as they punched him a few more times. A few of the blows knocked the wind from his lungs and Badou fell to the ground, gasping for air as he collapsed in a puddle.

The rain soaked him through, sending a sharp cold stab through his skin as the men grabbed him and dragged him inside. Badou groaned pitifully as the asphalt dug into his knees and he hoped Haine would save him before he was roughed up too badly.

+

Badou’s hope for rescue dwindled as the minutes crawled by. Haine had either ditched him, or was taking his sweet time. He twisted his hands behind him, trying to somehow rip through the duct tape that held his limbs in place. The more he twisted, however; the stronger the tape became as it bunched together into a thick rope. He clenched his fists and relaxed his shoulders, gathering his courage before glaring at the gangbangers that hovered before him.

The thugs made valiant attempts at intimidation with laughter and threats. They flashed their knives and guns, hoping for some reaction from their captive.

Heh, Badou had been in that position so many times, it barely fazed him. He casually looked around, taking note of all the guards that were watching him. Even if he managed to get past the first few, it was obvious that the rest would fuck him up before he got out of there. He looked again for his partner, hoping the pale bastard would step out of the shadows and kick their asses.

“What the hell were you looking for out there?” the leader growled, punching Badou in the cheek. “I don’t recognize you one-eye. Maybe the boss sent ya, eh?” He pressed the flat edge of his knife to Badou’s cheek. “Heh, whatever. Nothing’ll help ya now!” He motioned to one of his men held up Badou’s camera for him to see before tucking it into his pocket. “We got your evidence!”

Badou bit his lip as his anxiety mounted. Haine would be there… any minute…

“Soon, it won’t even matter.” The leader unzipped his duffle bag and withdrew a gun. It glinted under the lights; sharp and virginal in its purpose. “The old boss can’t even keep me from stealing his merchandise!”

The leader scratched his nose, making a show of thinking that appeared to be genuine effort. “Maybe I’ll cut out that other eye of yours, just so you know you fucked with the wrong guy. How about it?” He waved the knife about as if it would entice Badou to say yes.

Badou’s heart skipped and thudded as panic set in. He couldn’t look away from the knife that edged closer and closer to his remaining eye. Frantically, he looked out once more for help, his heart thudding to a near-stop as he spotted his pale dog approaching.

Haine swiftly killed a few guards before anyone noticed. His white hair cut through the darkness as his hands painted the floor red. Haine paused for a moment and his red eyes flicked across the remaining men before zeroing in on Badou. “This is a record for you, Badou. Six minutes this time.” He licked his lips as he paused there, his gun chains dangling by his legs and the delicious gun smoke coiled up from the barrels.

“It’s a talent,” Badou coughed and looked up at him with a lopsided grin.

Haine rolled his eyes in a mix of irritated acceptance before shifting to the thugs that surrounded him.

Their guns cocked in a symphony of impending carnage, all pointing to the one body in their midst in the stupidest example of gun safety gone awry.

Badou’s mouth went dry, realizing he had to get the fuck out of the way as things seemed to move in slow motion. He kicked at the floor in front of him, slamming his chair back as the first bullets erupted into the air. He pushed and hopped his chair behind some crates as he heard the first body hit the floor. In the dim lighting he spotted a box cutter forgotten on a pallet and awkwardly leaned over to retrieve it. Duct tape was a bitch to pry apart, but it cut like butter with the help of a sharp blade.

Once he was free, Badou sprang to his feet and carefully peered around the crate to see what was happening. Several thugs were trying to stand their ground, but most of them were running for the exit. Haine was at the centre of it all, his guns drawn as he picked off the fools that tried to fight him toe-to-toe.

Badou’s instincts screamed for him to hide, or even get away from there, but Badou never listened to that irritating voice – the same one that suggested he quit smoking for the sake of his health. Somewhere out there was his film with the evidence that would get him money for food and smokes. He’d come this far, he wouldn’t turn back.

Tightening his grip on the box cutter, Badou dove out into the fray. He dodged bullets as he tried to find the asshole with his camera. After patting down a few corpses he spotted a body he recognized – the one who’d stolen his meal ticket. He tried to move towards the corpse, but was held back by a flash of gunfire. He looked up, his attention drawn to the gang leader whose face was pale and vacant. Badou recognized the expression growing on his face; it was the realization that escape was his only option. His guns fell to the floor as he turned and practically skipped away as fast as he could.

Haine seemed oblivious to the escaping asshole, perfectly content to murder those who tried to fight.

“Fuck, Haine!” Badou hollered, pointing sharply towards the boss, drawing everyone’s attention. “He’s getting away!”

Haine made no reaction, somehow lost in the moment as he squeezed the trigger until it dug into his fingers.

The remaining thugs, however, saw what was happening and quickly bolted after their leader with their tails between their legs.

Badou rushed to retrieve his camera from the dead bastard and quickly inspected that the film was intact. “Thank Fuck, I thought he’d run off with it.” He inspected the case for damage and breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t see a scratch from any of Haine’s bullets. Badou smiled to himself, before realizing Haine was being quieter than usual. He looked over to his partner.

He seemed lost in thought. His red eyes were transfixed on the gun smoke filling the air and his cold mouth hung open as he basked in the aftermath. He seemed to snap out of it when Badou took him by the shoulder and brought him back into the moment. “I hope you got useable pictures,” he said flatly, turning to Badou and re-holstering his guns. He dug a finger into a hole in his chest, scooping out the bullet before it healed over and became trapped in his body.

“Yeah, for the two seconds before they bashed in my head!” The smoker climbed to his feet, digging into his pocket for his last cigarette. “I guess we’ll find out when I get the film developed.”

Haine’s red eyes focused on him for longer than was natural. They seemed to absorb every movement the smoker made as he inhaled the toxic breaths into his body.

Badou tried to ignore it, chalking the whole moment up to Haine’s fucked-up social graces. “Are you finished checking me out, yet?”

The strange air softened at Badou’s words and Haine absently ran bloodied fingers through his hair. “I’m going home.”

Badou watched him go. “Aren’t you going to go with me to meet granny? Was she the one who called? Where do I get my money for this shit?”

Haine didn’t bother turning around, though he did stop and turned his head. “You can take care of the rest of this. I did all the hard work… like usual.”

“Fucking asshole…” Badou glared and inhaled an angry puff. Why was he always stuck doing the paperwork? He stuffed his camera into his pocket and drudged out into the rain in the direction of granny Liza’s place.

Maybe next time he could save Haine from certain death. His smile bent wryly at that thought as the rain streamed through his hair. A little change to their routine would be nice, even if it might kill him.


End file.
